


The Majestic Highland Stag

by squidgie



Category: due South
Genre: Community: picfor1000, Community: story-works, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: Fraser nodded.  “And you know, while we’re there that would give me a chance to finally get fitted for a kilt.”It was Ray's turn to smile.  Because Benton Fraser in a kilt?  Yes, please!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for the community [picfor1000](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com), as well as the [story-works](http://story-works.livejournal.com) community, both on Livejournal. The [picfor1000](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com) challenge was to write an (exactly) 1,000 word story and involve [this image](https://www.flickr.com/photos/lloydich/31725486543/). And the [story-works](http://story-works.livejournal.com) community is doing a month-long "Anniversary" multi-fandom challenge. This story fits both nicely.
> 
> Also, I wanted to make this a little NC17ish, but my wordcount got away from me. Oh well, next time!

It had come as more of a shock than a surprise, at least based on the expression Fraser held.  Ray had long-ago learned that trying to buy the perfect present for Benton Fraser was something akin to seeing a lunar eclipse while tripping over a leprechaun and falling into a pile of Unicorn dung; so impossible that he stopped trying.  But what he _did_ end up doing...  Well, the look said it all.  
  
“We’re going...where?” Benton asked, as his lips tugged up slightly into a smile.  
  
“Scotland.”  Ray rocked back on his heels.   
  
Fraser still looked shell-shocked.  “And you chose Scotland because...”  
  
“Because you’re from there, that’s why.”  
  
Fraser looked confused.  “But Ray, as you well know, I’m Canadian.”  
  
Ray nodded.  "Well, I'm kinda Canadian, too.  At least by marriage and insemination."  Ray trotted out that line whenever he could because it made Fraser blush like no other.  As Fraser sputtered, Ray continued.  "I know you’re Canadian.  But I _also_ know that you're from the Clan Fraser of the Scottish Lowlands.  And I thought that maybe for your birthday and our annivers-"  
  
Ray didn’t get to finish his thought.  Instead, he suddenly had two handfuls of an enthusiastic Mountie, who told him exactly how happy he was by kissing him.

When Fraser finally unhanded him, Ray ducked his head slightly.  “So you like my plan?”  
  
Fraser nodded.  “And you know, while we’re there that would give me a chance to finally get fitted for a kilt.”  
  
It was Ray's turn to smile.  Because Benton Fraser in a kilt?  Yes, please!  
  
~*~*~  
  
The trip to Scotland was several weeks out, and each day ran twice as slow as the day previous.  Fraser spent much of his free time learning about the Fraser heritage.  He told Ray about it at night as they fell into bed, exhausted from work.  Ray took solace in Fraser's tales of old, and they chased him into sleep.  
  
When it was finally time to catch their flight, Ray practically vibrated out of his skin.  Fraser took over the planning, and even tried to calm Ray when turbulence continued into their second hour in the air.  “Benton Fraser.  You know I’m crazy about you, right?”  
  
A bright smile crossed Fraser’s face.  He leaned forward and gave Ray a kiss.  
  
As Ray sat back, he added, “But reciting Canadian airline crash statistics is _not_ doing it for me.  You cite one more survivability statistic as this plane continues to vibrate, and I promise I will punch you in the head.”  
  
“Understood.”

~*~*~  
  
They were three days into their vacation when Ray finally calmed down enough to enjoy himself.  It helped when Fraser distracted him by walking them into a kilt maker’s shop, and announced that he wanted to try a few things on.  “Now _that_ is a plan I can get behind,” Ray said.  And as if to emphasize the word behind, he dropped his gaze to Fraser’s backside.  
  
Two days later, after a healthy walk around the artistic district of Edinburgh, they walked back to the hotel where the front desk staff handed them a note.  “Ahh,” Fraser said as he read it.  “Time to go back to Nicholson’s.”  He nodded to the hotel clerk.  “Thank you, kindly,” he said, then took Ray’s hand in his own.  “Shall we?”  
  
Though Fraser had initially led the way, the image of Fraser in a kilt fueled Ray’s imagination, and his legs pumped them forward.  He tugged at Fraser behind him, and urged, “C’mon, Frase!” as they neared the store.  
  
“Ahh, gentlemen,” Angus Nicholson said as they entered.  “Your kilts are ready.  This way.”  
  
Ray stood, rooted to the spot, so that Fraser could go try on his outfit, but this time Fraser tugged him along.  Suddenly, the words Nicholson had uttered replayed in Ray’s head.  "Wait.  Kilts?  _Plural_?”  
  
Fraser smiled.  “I took the liberty of providing Mister Nicholson with your measurements.”.  
  
“But-” Ray started.  “But I’m not _Scottish_.”  He gestured to the bolts of fabric that lined two full walls of the shop.  “And I’m pretty sure there’s not a tartar for Kowalski.”  
  
“ _Tartan,_ Ray,” Fraser corrected.  “And while there is not a tartan for Kowalski, there _is_ one for the nation of Poland.”  
  
The news made Ray stand just a bit taller.  “There _is_?"  He glanced at the fabrics.  "What does it look like?"  
  
“Well if you’d be so kind as to follow Mister Nicholson, I’m sure he’d be happy to show you.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
Three hours later, with their old clothes stashed in their hotel room, Ray and Fraser took a hike in their new outfits, though both decided on the more practical boot version of the kilt shoes.  They were a kilometer off the beaten path and resting against an ancient downed cedar tree, which Ray took advantage of.  As soon as Fraser had leaned against him, Ray pulled Fraser’s hand to his mouth.  He kissed Fraser’s knuckles, and then pulled Fraser close.  He moaned as Fraser's tongue danced against his own, and got a hand underneath the backside of Fraser's kilt, finding bare skin.  Ray pulled back to say something when he heard a grunt behind them.  He turned, and came face-to-face with – “What the hell is _that_?”  
  
Fraser quieted his voice.  “It’s a highland stag.”.   
  
Ray watched, the beast’s breath drifting in the chilled afternoon air.  “Is it dangerous?”  
  
“Well, like Canadian moose and elk, they're probably just as curious of us as we are of them."  
  
“Curious or not, he's about to get a show."  Ray turned to the animal as he pulled up the back of Fraser’s kilt.  With a gentle whack, he said, “Get outta here, you wannabe moose.  Unless you want an eyeful.  Then, whatever floats your boat, ya perv.”  
  
Fraser tried to pull his kilt back down, but Ray wasn’t having it.  “Ray, do you _really_ think this is the appropriate place for such activities?”  
  
Ray just reached into his kilt’s satchel and produced a small packet of lube.  “Proper preparation, Benton Buddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is gorgeous artwork that was inspired by this. [Go check it out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10508835)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Kilts Are Kinda Punky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508835) by [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific)




End file.
